The end of a voyage, literally and figuratively, is always a time for reflection. A three-week trip to Australia, culminating in a tour of Tasmania and winding up in Melbourne, certainly gives an itinerant wine writer something to see and ponder.

Above all, it reminds a visitor that he sees, inevitably, through American eyes. Take, for example, Australia’s much-discussed “tall poppy” syndrome. The gist of it is that a striving achiever – a “tall poppy” – is fair game for his mates to cut down.

To an American, this seems counterproductive, to say nothing of infantile. We celebrate our tall poppies. Indeed, so admiring are we of accomplishment that we elevate our tall poppies to heights even taller than what they actually achieve.

But Australians see it differently. Where we Americans believe in equality of opportunity, the Aussie ideal is equality itself, a kind of cross-societal leveling. This is bad news for tall poppies.

This syndrome makes itself felt in the wine world as well. Winemakers of exceptional ability who might otherwise strike out on their own, taking the risk of establishing their own (high-end) brand names are likely more reluctant to do so. It’s risky being – or attempting to become – a tall poppy. You become a target among your mates even for making the attempt, never mind whether you achieve anything noteworthy. Just how inhibiting this really is cannot be judged by an outsider. But you can’t shake the feeling that a certain inhibition to reach for the stars is present.

It’s different in California. There, a winemaker who gets recognition is encouraged – expected even – to go out on his or her own, if not as a full-blown winery owner then as a highly paid (and publicized) consultant to numerous other wineries that want the same lightning for their bottles. The list of such star winemaking consultants grows longer every year, led by names such as Helen Turley, Heidi Peterson-Barrett, Tony Soter, and Mia Klein, among many others. (The disproportionate number of women among the leading winemaking consultants is an interesting story in its own right.)

Of course, Australia has numerous high achievers. This is a “can-do” country supreme. But the rip current of the tall poppy syndrome – even though it’s widely seen to be diminishing somewhat – surely has to give a striver pause, however briefly. It’s Australia’s version of the Nietzchean premise “that which doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” You’re a tall poppy with one tough stalk if you manage to stay standing, as have Rupert Murdoch, Mel Gibson, and Nicole Kidman, among many others less well known but equally accomplished.

Australian wine has seen astonishing achievement in the past 15 years. As is well known, Aussie wine has swallowed huge chunks of the (low-end) British market, as well as increasingly large portions of the low-end American wine market as well. The Asian market is in Aussie sights as well.

But Australia’s behemoth wineries will soon face not just a day, but years, of reckoning. Success has been so heady that vineyard plantings have spiraled. Already, Australia’s wine production is in a glut phase, with more yet to come.

Today, the most popular wine in Australia isn’t a wine, but rather, a category called “cleanskins.” These are wine bottles with no labels at all, hence the name. Only the cardboard box they’re shipped in gives an indication about contents. Australian law requires that the box indicate the grape variety and region of origin.

Cleanskins are a way for Australia’s big wineries to rid themselves of excess stock without diminishing brand luster. Like boiler room stock brokers in a hot market, cleanskin wine shops have sprung up in Melbourne, Sydney, and Adelaide, as well as many small towns. And every conventional wine shop stocks them too. You can imagine the conspiratorially whispered salesman’s assertions about which famous winery the wine really came from. Cleanskins are sold only in Australia, as other countries, such as the U.S., have labeling requirements that preclude export of cleanskins.

What’s more, the glut is growing. According to the Australian Bureau of Statistics, the 2004 vintage saw an increase of 37% in wine grape production over the 2003 harvest, which was itself 20% larger than 2002. All this while the country is already wallowing in excess wine.

Boom and bust is an old wine story everywhere. But the Australian saga is likely unique in its scale and, above all, its back-to-the-wall export situation. When California has a glut – which it did recently – the American market is big enough to sop it up. But the local Australian market is incapable of absorbing even a fraction of the flood. Australian wine is all about export. Twenty million people – even if they are famously hard-drinking Aussies – can only suck down so much. So it’s export or drown in red ink, to say nothing of wine.

Can they do it? It’s hard to say. Australia’s big wineries are master marketers. But too much of this latest flood of wine – with yet more to come from new plantings – will be a commodity item where every penny counts. Exchange rates consequently make a big difference, which is not good for the sought-after American market. The weak American dollar makes the Australian dollar stronger than Aussie wine exporters would like. And cheap-labor competitors such as Chile and Argentina with their own increasingly good commodity wines don’t help.

Not least, you can’t forget what might be called the Italian advantage. Right now, Italy stomps all import competitors, with a 37% share of the American import market. (Australia has 18%.) So the Italians know a thing or two about selling wine to the world and, especially, to the lusted-after American market.

But Italy has an ace up its sleeve that Australia will never have: Italian restaurants. Are you going to drink an Australian wine in an Italian restaurant? I didn’t think so.

What’s more, Italy has achieved something that Australia has yet to do, namely associate its wines with the high end of the market as well as the low. “Great Italian wine” now rings reasonable to the American ear and retailers’ cash registers.

But does “great Australian wine” do the same? Not yet. Somehow, in some subtle way, that tall poppy thing is still working its pernicious magic.